


Sunflowers over a paved road

by loewen_grube



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: College AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-25 16:57:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3817990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loewen_grube/pseuds/loewen_grube
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of Varric's old works resurfaced in the wrong time and manner, he meets Cassandra -- a student council officer -- in what has to be the weirdest ice breakers ever, and things get a little complicated as they share stories and tales.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Novel

**Author's Note:**

> A college AU sort of set in my own university! Been playing around the idea. Some aspects of it are inspired by real events that happened, and some are just for laughs and giggles. My writing has been a little rusty so I apologize for mistakes or anything bad.

Merrill was late again.

She just sent him a really chipper call on how they had a quick meeting with her “application buddies” in fine arts regarding her application, so she would be a little late to their designated meeting. She was always like that, getting too passionate about her course, which was no big deal – that makes Merrill as she is right now. But sometimes Varric gets a little miffed about making him wait in all the wrong moments, but hey. Daisy can do whatever she wants.

After the call, he sent her a text on how she should not get distracted by the flowering trees by the acad oval on her way.

He was okay with waiting, anyway -- like her, he also had schoolwork to do, so he picked a spot in the lobby to sit on, cranked up his laptop, and picked a good video game soundtrack playlist to listen on as he started writing. They were mostly school essays for now, but after this, he could keep writing the next chapter of his books. He had some volumes of the crime serials he have been writing for a while published last school year as a part of his thesis, and since he loved the project, he decided to continue it. He even got some outlines approved by his professor. Sweet.

But for now, yes, _essays_. He took out a juice box and started sipping from it slowly as he typed about that theater play he was required to watch for one of his classes, and watched the people who walked through the hallway as he tries to think up of something. Some people were looking at an exhibit in the lobby, some were chatting excitedly to themselves. Some people in the corner looked like they were plotting something overly nefarious. Some were handing out flyers to people. He finishes a paragraph about politics when he saw that the flyers were for the next council elections. There were a couple of names on the flyers, but no faces. A Cassandra lady there, his friend Aveline there, a Cullen somewhere…

He finished a paragraph or two about it when he noticed a lady sit beside him, clad in a black shirt and grey pants tucked under boots plus a black thread necklace to complete the greaser look, with a small novel in hand. The only feminine thing on her has to be a long rat-tail braid wrapped around her head like a headband. She sets down her bags between them, checks her phone and taps in some reminders, and then she shoved the device back in the bag and opened the novel and started reading.

He would have just returned to his essays, but then he noticed the book cover.

_Swords and Shields, by Varric Tethras._

What…?

That was definitely _not_ one of his crime serials, but it has his name on it. He doesn’t remember even having _that_ as an actual book. Yet it’s in the same format as his crime serials, complete with the gold seal on the front and his picture on the back. He pulled off his earphones and pauses the music, before he puts down his laptop and tries to move closer.

“Good read?” he asks, coming closer as much as he could. As soon as she actually notices that he was there, the black-clad lady _slams_ the book close and clutches it closer to her chest, as if she was not supposed to get caught with it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says. The lady’s red in embarrassment. _Oh shit._

“Of course, I’m not talking about the book that’s right between your fingers, but if there’s anything else, let me know, miss,” he says, grinning. “What’s so bad about it, anyway?”

She made a somewhat disgusted noise from the back of her throat before she settles the book back on her lap, trying her best not to establish eye contact. “Many things,” she says, “which I don’t want to share.”

“Swords and Shields, right?”

“The…” she pauses for a few seconds, before continuing, somewhat embarrassed. “The latest chapter.”

The _latest_? He doesn’t even remember _publishing_ that story. It was a thing he wrote for highschool just to make fun of Aveline and her boyfriend. It was bad, _smutty_ literature.

“As far as I remember, it was discontinued… a few years ago,” he says.

“A friend gave it to me.” She scoots farter and pulls her bag along with her. “Will you stop sticking your nose where it does not belong?”

“I’m in creative writing, miss,” he says, trying to sound as convincing as he could. “I have to know what people like in stories, right?”

“It… it’s terrible.”

“And you are still reading it because…?”

“… It’s magnificent, either way.”

Varric grins, but it was more for the fact that he’s amused than anything else. That definitely sounds like the bad smut he wrote years ago, and he doesn’t know why anyone would even find it… _‘magnificent’_. “Maybe I shouldn’t ask about the book, but the _person_ reading it.”

She made yet another disgusted grunt. “I don’t know how to comment in your obviously _incorrigible_ attitude.”

“How magnificent do you think it is?”

“It’s bad, but…” she looks at the cover and runs a hand over it. “It’s gotten me through a lot. And also—“

“Varric, oh goodness, I’m so sorry!”

Merrill suddenly comes out of nowhere, gigantic portfolio in hand, sweating buckets as she wipes her scarf all over her face. “I know I’m late, but I saw some of them whom I needed a signature on, and if I couldn’t fill in the sheet, I would be-- _Oh_. Did I disturb something?”

“Daisy, I—“

“No,” the black-clad lady replied, quickly standing up. “I-- I was just about to go.” The lady turns to Varric before she leaves. “It was… nice meeting you.”

“We could continue at some point, if you want to.”

The lady looks up, interested, but later on avoids making eye contact as she glances back at the book in her hands. “I’m not sure about that.”

“We could fix that.” Varric looks at his phone, checking the date and time. It’s Tuesday today, so…Thursday, same time and place.”

There was a pause, before the lady nods. She didn’t say anything afterwards, just looked down on the ground like she was not supposed to agree. “Okay. See you, uhm…”

“Varric Tethras, by the way.” He does an over-the-top bow to her direction. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Varric just watches her as she flips the book; she glances at the picture of the author just smacked on the back cover, and stares back at him in horror before she marches off like her furious steps would eat the earth.

“I can’t believe you’re close to a student councilor candidate, Varric!” Merrill asks. “And isn’t those one of the smut books Isabela gave me? She also reads those?”

“We were—wait, _what_?”


	2. Ice cream

Varric got his hand on a blue flyer with the supposedly black-clad-greaser-lady-that-he-met-yesterday’s name on it – the elections were today, so any campaigning material was either thrown away or removed, so it was hard to get one. Merrill was rambling about her yesterday – Cassandra Pentaghast, senior member of the Seekers of Truth, an organization that keeps most of the other orgs in line (at least, those that seem to go too far with protests and propagandas and all that). He’d read through her lengthy educational background if only he was not rushing, but he caught something about fencing and karate and he was not sure what that had anything to do about being a councilor.

But for now, Isabela’s in the college and she’s got some questions to answer. Mainly, about that ‘published’ Swords and Shields book. He could actually sue her for copyright infringement but – oh wait, that story did not exactly have copyright. It was _his_ work, but he was credited, _but_ it did not have any sort of permission at all… how will Varric work around this? Not to mention that Isabela next to never answers calls, and only comes in the university for once a month to sit in on random classes (even though she isn’t really a student). And there she was, lounging in the fine arts lobby on one of the exhibit chairs, chatting excitedly with Merrill as she paints one of her finals on the floor while _‘Conqueror’_ is blasting from her phone.

“Hey, Varric!” Isabela turned around and greeted the short man enthusiastically, but Varric kept walking straight to her direction. Merrill smiled to him before she returned to her work. “I was thinking of sitting in your class later, that Philosophy professor you got is always so funny and bad, can I – oh, woah.” She paused as soon as Varric was inches from her, red in fury. “You’re _mad_.”

“You got me in knee-deep shit right here!” Varric exclaimed. “If my adviser knows that stupid novel was mine, he would _kill_ me.”

Merrill just sat there with a brush raised, as if she was about to say something, before she just pulls out her earphones, wears them, and plugs the jack in her phone. “I’m—I’m just going to sit here and blast these through my earphones, if you don’t mind.”

“That Swords and Shields one? I thought I told you about it. We were in your home for a drink three years back and—“

“I was drunk, how in the world do you think I’m supposed to remember _anything_?” He sat down an exhibit chair across Isabela. Behind her, Merrill was bouncing on the beat of whatever song she was listening to.

“Oh, yeah. Oops.” Isabella probably intended that to sound coy, but it was not working.

“I need to get that out of shelves, or I might not be able to graduate! Help me out here, Rivani, this is all your fault, anyway.”

Isabela paused, before responding. “Firstly, stop calling me that. Second, I have no idea how to do that, sadly. It was an independent publishing and I had to pay for getting each individual copy book-binded and all that shit, and sold it on a convention when I tabled with Merrill. There’s only 50 copies sold and I don’t think that matters so don’t worry. I’ll give you a 75% cut on the sales I had if you—“

“It does, Rivani,” Varric says, “especially if one of the owners of a copy is a god-damned _student councilor_.”

“You think your thesis adviser would be interested on your interests? Does Merrill get bad grades for selling shippy Steven Universe stickers in cons?”

“He’s not expecting me to publish anything else other than my thesis before I graduate--”

Something in Isabela’s bag beeps, and she took out her phone and answered the call. She just listened as the person on the other side just rambled, and her responses were nothing but grumbles and the occasional ‘okay’. After a minute or so, she hangs up.

“I have to go, had something to take care of.” Isabela stands up, and fixes the exhibit chair back into place and shoves her phone back in her bag. “I’ll try to do what I can, but… well. Can’t exactly find all those people who bought them.”

Even with that, Varric is sure she’s not even going to try – but he just holds on the foolish hope that she will. “Okay, I’ll… go.” He stands up from the exhibit chair as well, and smiles to Isabela – at the very least, she’s still his friend that they’ve played Cards against Humanity with back in highschool. “I’m still... still going to vote. Nice seeing you.”

“Didn’t see you as the college politics type, Varric.” Isabela taps Merrill to get her attention and waves to the both of them goodbye. “Well, I heard Aveline ran for vice chairperson.”

“It’s just for today,” Varric muses. “On a normal day I’d abstain on everything.”

As soon as Isabela had left, Merrill stood up from her seat and took off her earphones. “Why don’t you ask help from that student councilor friend? The convention we went into was organized by one of the orgs here in FA, so the people who probably had a copy are mostly here in the university.”

“Daisy, I barely know her.”

“But she’s a great person! I’m sure she could help you!”

Merrill suddenly realized that she was actually done painting and went ahead to get ice cream despite warnings that it was not really a good ‘lunch’, while suggesting Varric to vote now, since the precinct will only be open up until 5PM. “Plus, there’s free ice cream when you vote!” she exclaims, before biting on her ice cream sandwich.

Gladly, the fine arts people allowed him to vote in their building even though he’s not exactly in fine arts. The computer room precinct was cold, and the chairs felt like they came from the freezer. Varric only took a minute or two to vote, anyway -- he abstained on every vote except his friends, and ticked on the check box beside Cassandra’s name for student councilor (well, if she’s part of the Seekers, that means that she’s _really_ serious in her job). He also voted for Aveline as… well, he did not know, but he was sure she’d do a great job on being vice chairperson. She was great back in highschool, so what makes college any different? It’s like his one tiny, biased vote will matter.

At least the free ice cream he got for voting made him feel a little less terrible about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by our student council elections where no one was interested with voting, so they had to bribe us with free ice cream.
> 
> More shippy stuff next chapter. And yes, dont argue with me I totally see Merrill loving Steven Universe ok


	3. Jacket and lilies

A friend of Varric’s, Hawke, had to be the one to call him _screaming_ about Cassandra winning the elections. Hawke is _not_ even studying in this university –- she submitted a leave of absence last year –- so Varric has no idea how she even knew that he knows Cassandra. Must be Merrill, but he couldn’t help but ask.

“Oh, she was a friend a year or so ago,” Hawke says. “She talked to me about a thing in their Seekers org thing.”

“For an activity or event or something like that?”

“Dunno,” Hawke says, “but it sounded kind of important before. Now she doesn’t bother me much about it, but we still talk a bit.”

Varric did not know if that was supposed to be a good thing –- considering that he only knew her for around five minutes. But the fact that almost every single one of his friends knows Cassandra except for him makes him feel weird. Still –- she won. He should probably get her something to congratulate her, but that would be creepy, right?

He just makes a mental note to treat her if they ever go out for a snack later. It was Thursday, and he agreed to meet up with her –- same place, same time, after his Philosophy class. Varric did not know if she would actually go, but he could hope. He’s rarely free like this and it would be nice to meet some new friends aside from his highschool gang.

And she did show up, which was a surprise. Cassandra still had the novel with her plus a few textbooks. She was still on black, but this time she had on an oversized dress-shirt with a belt around her waist and a military jacket over her shoulders like a cape -– it wasn’t hers, it had the last name _D’Marcall_ on the name pocket and a couple of lilies stuck on the other pocket. Faded galaxy leggings tucked under military boots sealed the look. He smiles upon seeing her; she looked strangely more colorful.

“Hey, seeker,” he greets her. “Congratulations for winning the elections.”

“ _Seeker_?” Cassandra considers the nickname before smiling back. “Oh, uh... Thank you.” Varric takes another look at her outfit, and stares at the different name on the pocket for the second time.

“Nice clothes.”

“My roommate insisted on them, but thank you.” She smiles, clutching the jacket closer. “Going to a… _party_ later. With friends. They insisted that we celebrate.”

There were a few moments where Varric did not know what to say, and then he catches another glance of the novel on his hands. Ah, yeah. He’s here for _that._

“And they just let you come with me?” he says. “Sounds like a great bunch.”

“It’s just for a while, right?” Cassandra says. A pause, before she stands up. “Now that we’re at it, why don’t we go eat out? Some of the concessionaires in the canteen actually have pretty great food.”

 It was only a few minutes that they got in the canteen, picked their meals – Cassandra paid for everything, she was strangely persuasive today -- and sat down in silence. It was afternoon, and almost everyone is heading home, so there are only a few people in the canteen. There was barely any small talk, and Cassandra picks on her food a lot, lost in thought, before she remembers to take a spoonful once in a while. Later on, after she finishes her meal, she herself breaks the silence.

“You wrote _Swords and Shields_ ,” she murmurs.

“That, I did.”

“I had research about your work, for the Seekers,” she says. “I was only supposed to look on your Tale of the Champion – I have been trying to look for your friend Hawke for a… for an important thing. I was trying to look for more clues that might have been in your other works, and…”

_... Oh._

“But it’s all fine now. We found someone to hold her role. Although I hoped … I met you a little earlier.” She looks to the side, fork over her food. “The romance novel was a nice consolation, though.”

“I don’t know what happened that went shit, but you can’t change the past, seeker,” he says. Varric was not one for advice, but his words were honest – that’s all that matters now, right? “No point dwelling on it.”

“You might be right.” There was a pause before she laughs, trying to hide the previous melancholy. “Ahh, I’m sorry. I’m getting ahead of myself; we were supposed to be pleasant.”

“I can’t be a good storyteller if I can’t listen to one blasted tale,” he says, grinning. “Anyway, I know it’s shitty of me to suddenly change the topic, but I need to actually _talk_ to you about the novel.”

“What about it?”

“It was published without my permission,” Varric says. “My thesis adviser is not expecting me to publish anything except _Hard in Hightown_. If he sees that before the exhibit, he’s going to flip his shit.”

“Ah,” she muses. “I see the problem.” Cassandra pauses, before she looks up, as if she’s thought up of something. “I could—oh, wait. Exhibit? You’re… in creative writing, am I right?”

“Yes, but it’s a joint thesis project with a fine arts student,” he says. “It’s like an illustrated novel thing of sorts. She draws her thing, I write my thing. It’s a joint project that can be okay without the other, that’s sort of the point. Both our advisers were okay with it.”

Cassandra thinks about it for a while, before she suddenly brings out her phone and started tapping on things. “I have an idea. You don’t have to worry about the novel anymore. Do you have a business card of your partner?”

Varric hands a business card adorned with a stamp of a bird on it. Cassandra reads the cursive text and the details, probably trying to look for a contact number, before she just… stops.

“What’s the matter?”

The smile on her face seems uncharacteristically excited. “She’s my roommate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have a confession to make guys: this thing is for school and i got a sodding WORD LIMIT and im crying as i try to fit everything in 6k words. so I'm just... dropping hints left and right. yeah. oop


End file.
